"You made me cry, Captain."
Astonished, he forgot to stop and straighten in feigned indifference.
"When we were down here earlier," she admitted, picking her way around a decaying lobster. "When Jonathan flew into my arms then ran back to you."
Carolyn paused, squinting upwards into his face as she walked backwards on the sand. "That's something I never thought I'd be able to offer my son. Two parents. Two adults who agree about something that's in the best interests of a young child."
"Turn around, Madame," he managed, grabbing her elbow as she swiveled awkwardly to sidestep a clump of seaweed and beer cans. They linked arms, and continued on the heels of the retreating tide. Carolyn tingled proudly at the thought of the Captain's innate skill with Jonathan. She burned at his unexpected touch.
Soon, his arm left hers and anchored itself firmly around her waist. She pulled away, startled. Tears formed quickly in her eyes. Soon she was shaking convulsively. Captain Gregg pulled her towards him, and she burrowed into him, arms on his chest.
This time, he knew what to do. Softly, he stroked her hair as the shaking gradually ended. Carolyn hiccupped.
"It's a gradual process, dealing with a death," he murmured into her ear as he tightened his arms around her. This time, she didn't resist. She pulled him closer by the broad, nautical lapels of his jacket.
"Advice on loss from a ghost?"
"Nay, Madame. From the man who wants nothing more than to become the father of such a fine lad – but only after his mother is ready. You've never cried, at any length, since your arrival here at Gull Cottage. You may have loved Jonathan's father – or not – but he was your husband, as disturbing as I might consider that thought. Your earlier comment –"
"Hush." She reached up, tentatively placing her finger on his lips to silence him then, entranced by his sheer physicality, without will or thought, standing on tiptoe to explore the beautiful mouth she'd fantasized about for the last three months.
"Captain Gregg, you might be an expert on American legends but you understand nothing of modern American mothers." Carolyn pretended to pick lint off his ghostly sweater but he would have none of it. Pulling her hands to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles softly, then the palm of each hand.
"Carolyn Muir tells it like it was," he said as he tilted her chin upwards. "Daniel Gregg shows it like it is."